Waiting. Waiting. & more waiting. Waiting in the doctor's exam room. Waiting for my results to be faxed over from hospital to clinic. Dr. Morham is trying to keep me calm. In & out of "my" room. Disjointed conversation(s); always pleasant. I notice new artwork above his desk. Sail boats. Nice. Something about the jar of tongue depressors makes me want to grab a handful and stuff them in my purse. Even though I have no use for them. A few magazines. None that I'm particularly interested in. Flipping pages. Not even seeing what's on each shiny page. Article on running. I tear it out (shh!), fold in half & then in half again and slide it into my purse. No one sees. I stand. Admire my breasts in the mirror. Fix my hair. Brush a few cat hairs away. I return to my seat. It makes a rude sound when I sit on it. I dive into my purse & finally resurface avec my mini lint roller. Thanks Manda. More than anything, I'm fidgeting. All (most?) cat hair is removed. Finally. Finally papers in hand, he sits. Then reads to himself. Dead. Silence. Looks straight into my eyes & says, "It was nothing. They couldn't find anything to be concerned with." No air is in my lungs. His eyes never leaving mine, we were suspended in a void. Processing. Like a "hot flash", I felt a wave wash over me. Then the tears of relief. "Thank you." Eyes still not breaking away. Intense. Relief. Kindness. All shared. "Thank you." I was never alone in this.
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